


Going to the Doctor's

by you_a_southpaw_doll_45



Category: Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, He's really just a total sweetheart, JDM's so protective and caring, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 08:16:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16783159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_a_southpaw_doll_45/pseuds/you_a_southpaw_doll_45
Summary: After dealing with a hand injury for the last two years, and actually finding out that its not just a hand injury, but ra-ther, a shoulder injury stemming from years of trauma and several dislocations, Leigh returns to the doctor, with a cer-tain someone (aka Jeffrey Dean Morgan) in tow. Things don’t quite go as expected, and that certain someone doesn’t like the results the doctor gives, Jeffrey goes all protective mode over Leigh.





	Going to the Doctor's

**Author's Note:**

> Slight usage of strong language. Mentions of childhood trauma. Implied nonconsensual content. Trip to the doctor. Fluff. Protective JDM. Caring JDM. He’s got a surprise up his sleeve. :)

“Are you sure you want to come in with me?” I ask quietly.

Jeffrey takes my good hand in his. “Sweetheart, of course I’m sure. I told you I’d be here for you for this.”

“Thank you.”

He just smiles. “You’re welcome, doll.”

We get out of his pickup truck and make our way towards the door to my doctor’s office. Jeffrey, the true gentleman that he is, opens my door for me, and lets me enter first. I walk up to the front counter, and wait for the attendant to slide the glass window open. Once she does, she smiles at me. 

“Hey, Leigh. What can I do for you?” She asks.

I smile. “I’m here for my 4:15 appointment.”

“Alright. If you wanna go ahead and take a seat, we’ll get you back as soon as we can. There doesn’t seem to be too much of a wait today.”

“Sweet. Thanks.”

She slides the glass window closed. I walk over to the pair of seats where I normally sit. I sit in the left one, the one closest to the door. Jeffrey plops down in the seat beside me. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, leans back in the chair, and clasps his hands together in his lap. I pull my phone out and respond to my friend from Tumblr. Once I do that, I slide it back in my pocket. I bring my left ankle up, and prop it on my right knee. Settling back into the chair, I try to get comfortable. Hopefully I won’t have to wait almost two hours to be called back like the last three times I’ve been here.

I look up at Jeffrey to see him gazing down at me, with a twinkle in his murky brown eyes. As soon as he sees the blush that tints my cheeks and tips of my ears at his gaze, he smirks and chuckles.

“You good there, sweetheart?” He drawls.

I nod. “Mmhhmm. I just really don’t like coming to the doctor.”

“Why’s that?”

I shrug. “I guess it’s ‘cause even though I know I have to come, I always get stressed out ‘cause I don’t know how much it’s gonna cost. I’m already so far behind in medical debt, just from the last two years, that adding more to that debt stresses me out.”

He nods his head. “Fair ‘nough. I guess I can understand that. What ‘bout your insurance?”

“Don’t have any. It’s not exactly to get, and depending on how much you can afford to pay for insurance, depends on the quality of care you can get.”

“Well shit. Maybe I could get you on mine? I’ve got a pretty good setup through work.”

I shrug. “I dunno. Would it be possible?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean, you’re my fiancée. We might have to wait till after the wedding, but I don’t see there being any problem getting you on mine.”

I smile. “That’d be great. I don’t know what it’s like to have insurance, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

I shrug. “It’s ok. Let’s talk ‘bout something else, yeah?”

He chuckles. “Sure. What do you wanna talk ‘bout?”

“Baseball?”

He laughs. “Why did I have a feeling you were gonna say that?”

I giggle and shrug. “You know me so well.”

We talk ‘bout baseball until the doctor’s assistant calls my name. I set my left foot down on the ground, pick my jacket up, and stand up. As soon as I go to take astep forward, something happens. I guess my left leg completely gives out, because the next thing I know, I’m laying on the ground. It takes me a split second to realize that I’ve fallen, and once I do, I quickly try to stand up.

But, it’s not that easy. When I fell, I landed on my already messed up shoulder, further damaging it, and the pain radiates through my left arm. I scraped my elbow on the carpet pretty bad. And, to top it all off, I narrowly missed hitting my head on the semi-large table sitting in the middle of the lobby, covered with an assortment of magazines. I realize that the entire doctor’s office has gone silent and everyone’s staring at me. I scramble, trying to get up. Jeffrey’s quick to help me. Once I’m standing, he keeps one hand on my waist, and the other on my good shoulder.

“Doll? You ok?” He asks, quietly.

I nod. “Yea. I’m fine.”

It looks like he doesn’t believe me, and to be honest, I’m not even sure I believe myself, but I still offer him a small smile. I just want to get out of the eyesight of everyone staring at me. It’s certainly not helping my anxiety, and I can feel myself start to withdraw and go into a panic attack. I look at the doctor’s assistant. She looks slightly concerned.

“You ok?” She asks.

I nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine.”

I go to take a step forward, and feel my left knee buckle again. Jeffrey keeps his hand close to me, prepared to catch me in case I fall again.

“You wanna sit down for a second?” The doctor’s assistant asks.

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks, though.”

After a few wobbly steps, I finally manage to make it to the hallway that leads away from the lobby and to the patient rooms. Jeffrey’s close by at all times. The doctor’s assistant asks me several questions, making sure I’m ok. I assure her I’m fine. Even though I’m starting to tell that I’m not. We finally get into the room that’s meant for my appointment. I look at the exam table/bed, and hesitate. I don’t trust myself to get up there and sit without possibly falling again. But, Jeffrey’s here, so I can’t sit in the chair tucked in the corner. 

Jeffrey must notice my hesitation, ‘cause he helps me hop up on the bed. I give him a small smile as he sits down in the chair. He smiles back, but I can tell it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I know he’s worried ‘bout me even more. I struggle as I go to take my blue and grey, plaid button up shirt off. I have a t-shirt on under it, so it’s not a big deal for me to take it off. I finally manage to get it off, and let it settle on the bed behind me. I look down at my elbow to see how bad the injury is. It’s pretty bad, and the doctor’s assistant notices, and leaves the room. 

She’s back a moment later with something to cover the wound. I thank her before she begins to take my blood pressure. I’ve always had low blood pressure, so when it comes out to be 117/66, I’m not too worried. The assistant asks me a few questions pertaining to what the hand surgeon I went to see two weeks ago said. Once she’s done with the questions, she leaves, letting me know that the doctor will be in to see me shortly. As soon as the door shuts, Jeffrey lets out a quiet sigh. I look over at him.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” He asks.

I shake my head. “I can’t lie to you. I thought I was, but now my arm is absolutely killing me, and I’ve got a terrible migraine.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, doll. Can I do anything for you?”

“I don’t think so at the moment.”

“Ok. Well, if I can, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“I won’t You know that.”

He nods. “Also, when the doc gets in here, we’ll have him check out your shoulder to see if it’s messed up more than it already is.”

I nod. “That sounds like a good idea.”

He and I chat ‘bout random things till the doctor finally comes in. I relay to him what the hand surgeon told me, which shocks him at first. When I first starting seeing Dr. Nissin as my ortho doc, we both thought it was just a hand injury. But, the x-rays and MRI scans never showed there to be anything wrong, even though something obviously wasn’t right. I explain how the hand surgeon figured out that it was a shoulder injury rather than just a hand injury. It all comes from having five dislocated shoulders since I was three years old.

That’s a lot in a small time frame, considering I’m only twenty years old. He has me run through a few exercises with both arms just to see how limited my range of motion is with my left arm.

“So…how is it that you’ve had so many dislocated shoulders, Leigh?” Dr. Nissin asks, looking at me, as he slowly lowers my arm.

I sigh and glance at the still slightly cracked door.

“Um…do you think you could close the door all the way?” I ask, nervously.

The doc nods and shuts the door completely. I wait for a few seconds after I hear the lock click into place. I shoot a quick, nervous glance to Jeffrey. He gives me a questioning look in return. He knows some of what I went through when I was younger, but doesn’t know everything. I look back at Dr. Nissin.

“Well…” I start, taking in a shaky breath. “When I was three, my dad jerked me up outta my bed by my arms ‘cause I was crying. Now, keep in mind, I never cried as a kid. This was one of the few times I did. Anyway, his actions dislocated both of my shoulders.”

I pause to take in a deep breath before continuing. “When I was eight, he shoved me down a steep flight of stairs. I don’t remember the reason why. When I landed, I landed hard, and on my shoulder. The force of it, and being shoved down a flight of stairs, dislocated my left shoulder again.”

I lower my eyes to the ground. The doctor’s face is one of pure shock, but it’s the look in his eyes that bothers me the most. It’s one of pity. I can’t stand being pitied. While still looking at the ground, I keep talking.

“When I was thirteen, my dad wanted to do something to/for him. It wasn’t something you’d normally request of a thirteen year old, much less your own daughter. I didn’t want to do it. I’d been forced to do it before, many times on many different people, and I didn’t want to do it that day. I turned and started to walk away. He grabbed my left wrist, and jerked me towards him, with ‘nough force to dislocate my shoulder once more. He wasn’t happy that I was refusing to do what he wanted me to do. After that, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t fight back anymore, and he forced me to do it.” My voice starts to crack and my anxiety rises.

“When I was seventeen, he got pissed off at me ‘cause I’d had to work a longer shift at work than usual right after school, so I got home later. Apparently I hadn’t cleaned the kitchen, the entire house enough to his expectations the night before, and it pissed him off. He jerked my arm again, before the rest of the beating, dislocated my shoulder.”

My body shudders as I pause again. I can hear Jeffrey’s breathing, and I can tell he’s pissed off at my father. I glance up at the doctor. When I see the same look in his eyes as before, I lower my eyes back to the floor.

“When I was eighteen, my dad got pissed off with me ‘cause I was gonna be graduating high school in just a few months. Not only was I graduating high school, but I was doing so with a two year college degree. And, he also found out that I had got accepted into my dream school for a four-year college. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout that, so he beat the shit outta me, and ended up dislocating my shoulder for the fifth time.”

The room’s silent, minus the sound of us all breathing, as I finish telling the doctor ‘bout my previous injuries. I hear footsteps, and a moment later, I feel arms gently wrap ‘round me. I realize it’s Jeffrey, and that he’s doing everything he can to avoid my shoulder, so he doesn’t hurt it. He just holds me for a few moments. It takes everything in me not to break down. I hate my father for what he did to me growing up. But, even more than that, I hate having to talk ‘bout what he did. Eventually, Jeffrey lets go of me, after placing a gentle, loving kiss to the top of my head.

He sits behind me on the exam bed, and gently runs his fingers up and down my back, trying to calm me. He knows ‘bout my mental illnesses, and he knows when my anxiety is through the roof. He’s trying to calm me, and I appreciate it. He’s a total sweetheart. I look up at Dr. Nissin. He looks like he doesn’t know what to say.

Finally, he says, “Well, shit. I’m sorry, Leigh.”

I just nod and shrug slightly with my right shoulder. His eyes drop to my left shoulder.

“You shoulder is obviously messed up. However, there’s nothing I can do to fix it.” He says. “That fall out there most likely made the damage to it worse than it was.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t fix it?” Jeffrey asks, angrily.

“Sir. There’s nothing I can do because I don’t specialize in shoulder injuries. I can’t fix it.”

“Then who the fuck can?”

“Most likely the hand surgeon Leigh saw two weeks ago.”

I can tell Jeffrey’s not pleased with what the doctor’s saying…but I’m not surprised. In the entire time that I’ve been coming to see Dr. Nissin, I’ve slowly gathered the idea that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He didn’t know what to do with my hand, kept stringing me along for roughly ten minutes, saying he didn’t know what was wrong. Yet, I go see a hand surgeon, and within five minutes, I was told what was wrong. So…the fact that Dr. Nissin doesn’t know what to do to fix my shoulder, doesn’t surprise me. He doesn’t even offer to set my shoulder back into place.

To be honest, I’m not even sure why I keep coming back to him as a doctor. He asks me a few more questions, ones that kinda help distract me, before telling me that he wants to see me back in six weeks. After standing up, and opening the door, he turns to look back at me.

“I hope you have a good holiday break, and please try not to get hurt anymore. Or, if you do, make sure it’s something that I can actually help you with and fix.” He says, lightheartedly, handing me a sheet of paper.

I chuckle. “No promises, doc. You know me. I get hurt all the time.”

He chuckles. “I know. That’s why I said what I did. Every time you come in, there’s always a new, more complicated injury.”

“I know. I don’t mean to get hurt so much, but it just happens.”

He nods. “I’ll see you in six weeks.”

“See you then.”

He walks out, and I reach for my button-up shirt. Jeffrey’s silent as he sits behind me. I struggle to put my shirt on, but finally succeed. I grab my jacket and put it on. I look at my fiancé.

“Hon?” I ask, quietly.

He lifts his head to look at me. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

I walk over to him, and he immediately wraps his arms ‘round me, tucking his face against the side of my neck. I hug him as best as I can since I can’t lift my left arm up too high. Neither of us say anything for a few moments, before I feel him place a kiss against my neck. He pulls back and looks at me, bringing one hand up to cup my cheek.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right? I’d never let anything happen to you, and I’d hurt anyone that every tried to hurt you.” He says, softly.

I nod. “I know.”

He gently brushes his lips against mine, his scruff tickling my face slightly as he does.

“I love you, Leigh.” He murmurs against my lips.

“I love you too.” I say.

He pulls back, and looks at me. “You ready to get outta here?”

I nod. We head out to the front desk. I get my next appointment set up for six weeks later, once I get back from Christmas break, and getting it situated around my class and work schedule for the next semester. Once my next appointment is set up, Jeffrey and I leave, heading out to his truck. He opens the passenger side door for me, waits for me to get in, and closes it before walking ‘round to his side and getting in. I slide closer to him as soon as he’s turned the key and cranked the engine. I lay my head on his shoulder while he drives.

“I’m sorry.” I say after a few minutes.

He shifts gears. “What are you sorry for, darlin’?”

“You finding that stuff out ‘bout me like that…that wasn’t exactly how I wanted it to go. I was gonna tell you, eventually.”

“Honey, it’s ok. There’s no need to apologize. I’d never force you to tell me anything. You know that. I know that if you had something important like that, then you’d tell me when you were good and ready.”

“So…you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Finding out like that.”

“Sweetheart.” He pauses as he pulls up to a red light and looks at me. “I’m not mad at. I could never be mad at you for something like this. Ok? I am however fuckin’ pissed off at your goddamn father. No man like him deserves to be a father. I know he treated you like shit, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. He better hope that I don’t meet him ‘cause he’ll fuckin’ regret it.”

“I disowned him last year when I left for college. I ain’t seen or talked to him in almost a year, even though he still tries to contact me.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

The light changes, so Jeffrey starts driving again. When he starts to get on the interstate, I lift my head up off his shoulder, and look at him.

“Um…hun? Where we going?” I ask.

He smirks. “It’s a surprise.”

I furrow my brow. “A surprise?”

He nods. “Mmhhmm. I wanna take you out, so I am.”

“Ok?”

He chuckles. “Just trust me, sweetheart. You’ll love it. I promise.”

Thirty minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot of my favorite chicken fast food restaurant. I get excited as he puts the truck in park and turns the engine off. He turns to look at me.

“Alright. C’mon. Let’s go get you some chicken.” He teases, grinning.

**Author's Note:**

> So…I got the idea to write this story after actually going to the orthopedic doctor I’ve been going to since February. It was a checkup after he sent me to see an actual hand surgeon ‘bout a hand injury I’ve been dealing with for nearly two years now. Most of what happens in this story is actually what happened during the doctor’s visit, with a few exceptions, like JDM’s presence, what I did in the lobby before the doc called me back, and I changed the name of my doctor. The story Leigh tells the doctor ‘bout her injuries is actually true…that’s my story.


End file.
